


Dust And Silence

by Andian



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 22:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14482761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andian/pseuds/Andian
Summary: Tony has words. He always has words. Words to charm, words to soothe, words to impress. Words to explain. But how can you explain this, he thinks. How can you ever explain this?Her face crumbles and he realizes that his silence has been enough of an explanation.





	Dust And Silence

Most of the traffic lights on his way don’t work but the streets are mostly empty anyway so it doesn’t really matter. He is still driving slowly though, one hand on the steering wheel, the other one resting on his knee. It’s broken, probably, he hadn’t bothered going to a doctor. Hadn’t bothered really checking to see if there were many left in New York after making it back.

The hospitals are full, he knows that much, has heard fragments on television, ignored a thousand push notifications on his smartphone, had just shrugged when Happy stammered about his sister and her kids and _she is gone, Tony_ , _why is she gone?!_

The world is still moving, he had thought dully when Happy had wordlessly stormed off, hopefully to his niece and nephew who were now without mother. It is still moving and some people are still alive and those who are alive are doing things. He is too. Doing things.

The apartment building is coming up and he wants to keep driving. Round the corner and back home. Sit in his lab and drink until he passes out. He stops though. It’s not because he is a good man. If he was good he wouldn’t have to be here at all.

It’s three staircases up and his legs fill like cement, getting heavier with every step. It’s quiet but so is New York, so is this new world they are all now part of. He will get used to it. Or maybe he will start screaming and just never stop. He hasn’t quite decided yet.

When he reaches the door he hesitates briefly before he rings the doorbell. For a moment there is no answer and if he could hate himself any more than he already did, those seconds of relief he felt at that would be enough.

But the door opens, pushed with such a force it almost hits him and she looks at him with wide eyes, filled with desperate hope before she recognizes him.

“Mr. Stark”, May Parker says and her voice breaks. He stares at her, suddenly unable to say anything.

He has words. He always has words. Words to charm, words to soothe, words to impress. Words to explain. But how can you explain this, he thinks. How can you ever explain this?

May’s face crumbles and he realizes that his silence has been enough of an explanation.

“No”, she whispers, her shaking hand gripping the door frame. “Please, please tell me he isn’t…” The words are drowned out by a loud sob as she starts shaking.

He reaches for her unthinkingly and she flinches away violently. “Don’t”, she says, her voice shaking so much it is hard to understand. She stares at him, eyes red and puffy and he opens his mouth to say something. Anything.

“He did doing his best”, he hears himself saying. Peter clings tightly to him. “He fought bravely”, he continues. Peter is crying and he is scared, he looks so scared. “He died a hero.” And then Peter closes his eyes and there is dust in his hands, on him, around him and Peter is gone.

And Tony wants to scream and he wants to die and he wants to hold on to every particle of dust and put him back together.

But he is here. In this silent apartment building, in this silent city, in this silent world. May has stopped crying. She just stares at him for a moment.

 She doesn’t slap him. It’s a punch instead, hitting him square in the face, not even strong enough for his head to move to the side. She punches him once more, hits his nose this time and the pain feels good. It’s a feeling at least. He welcomes it.

But May’s hand is shaking too hard for her to keep it balled into a fist anymore. She crumbles over, falling on her knees as she starts crying again.

“Go away”, she forces out between sobs. She is hugging her knees, curled up in a ball and the silence is broken by her sobbing. “Go away and _die_.”

He takes a step back and then another and he is not a good man. If he was good he wouldn’t be here at all. Another step back and he almost falls down the stairs and then he turns around and leaves May, still crying uncontrollably on her doorstep.

Her sobs are only silenced once he closes the main door behind him. He stands there for a moment, staring blankly into space. Absentmindedly he notes the broken windows of a shop across from him. Looters, he thinks because the world is still moving and people are still doing things.

He starts walking though he can’t quite tell how exactly. His body feels like his suit, a shell around him that he controls but does not really feel. His right hand reaches for his phone, unlocking it and dialing.

“Hey Pepper”, he says. “I know it’s surprising but it didn’t go well. Should have brought somebody who is better with that emotion thing.” He stops at the car, fumbles for his keys in his left pocket.

“So for the weeding, I was thinking Hawaii. Beautiful, especially with half the tourists gone now.”

He can’t find his keys.

“And good news, I found a way to reduce the guest list. Pretty much cut it in half.”

He could have sworn he had put them in his pocket.

“Less money we need to spent on catering.”

They are in his pocket. They had to be in his pocket.

“And after the weeding we can-“ “The number you have called is not available. Please try again later”, the robotic voice continues like it had done for the last minute.

The keys are not in his pocket. He drops his phone and raises his hand. Starts punching the window of the driver’s side. Once and twice and it doesn’t break because naturally he doesn’t have regular glass for his car, Pepper drives it too after all.

He keeps hitting it though. Keeps hitting until his fist starts bleedings, keeps hitting even after that. He doesn’t notice it.

He thinks of broken shop windows instead. Of hospitals filled with people and so few to take care of them. Of Happy trying to explain to two five-year-olds why their mother isn’t here anymore.

He thinks of silence and of dust. Dust in his hands, dust on him, dust around him. Silence in their home, silence when he yells for Pepper, silence when nobody answers.

He thinks of a world that should have stopped moving that very instant but had refused to.

And he starts crying.


End file.
